


Hearth and Home

by scrapbullet



Series: Fever [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Character, Brenda the Occamy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Nesting, Not Beta Read, Omega Credence Barebone, Omega Original Percival Graves, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: “There was nothing wrong with it in the first place,” Credence criticises baldly, watching Graves methodically take their nest apart piece by piece. Every tack and pin, blanket and cushion is taken away - by hand, even, as if the idea of using magic to (de)construct such a necessity is beyond Graves - and then carefully scrutinised for imperfections.(...)“If it was perfect one of Scamander’s Occamies wouldn’t have claimed it for its own,” Graves replies tersely, pointedly picking up a half-eaten grub from within a cocoon of sheets and raising a perfect eyebrow.





	Hearth and Home

Graves is a perfectionist. There’s no doubt about it. From filing paperwork in his office at MACUSA to maintaining a tidy and orderly home he is meticulous in his organisation, and if something isn’t _quite right_ , then it’ll just have to be rehashed and reworked until it is. And of course, appearance is paramount. His hair must be perfectly coiffed, his shoes polished to a shine, and his shirt without nary a wrinkle. Appearances matter, after all, and one must give a good impression if one is to be taken seriously.

It’s the kind of thing that Credence, at first, found endearing. That expression of utter focus that passes over Graves’ face, eyes narrowed in hawk-like intent. Not a single object is missed - not in a report, or in evidence, or a book out of place on the shelf. It’s an attractive look, and frankly, it’s worth the nit-picking.

The point is, Graves will poke and prod at something that is perfectly fine - in this instance, their shared nest - until it meets his exacting standards. 

(And don’t get Credence started on the matter of his education; Graves is an exhausting taskmaster.)

Now, however, it is beyond frustrating, not least due to his coming heat. After years of his cycle being off-kilter - no doubt thanks to fluctuations in hormones, Tina had told him once, awkwardly, and his status as an obscurial - they have finally settled into a kind of routine; though a bit of an odd one. Whilst Graves - his body as concise as his mind - goes into heat two days out of every month like clock-work, Credence is every other; which, honestly, given his lack of desire for sex, suits him just fine. 

(Not to say that he doesn’t enjoy the times where they coincide. Graves doesn’t press for more, hasn’t since the very first, and Credence is more than happy to lend a helping hand to a fellow omega in need. 

Honestly, it still baffles him how his body can at once demand and be repulsed by the idea of being mounted and bred, but if these long months in safe seclusion with Graves has taught him anything, it’s that he needn’t conform to societies idea of what he _should_ be. He is what he is. 

That Graves accepts him wholeheartedly helps. It helps a lot.)

However, with his pheromones seeping into the air and feeling like his skin is stretched far-too-tight over his skinny frame, what he wants from Graves is a decided _lack of fuss_. And that, unfortunately, is precisely what Graves is doing. _Fussing_.

“There was nothing wrong with it in the first place,” Credence criticises baldly, watching Graves methodically take their nest apart piece by piece. Every tack and pin, blanket and cushion is taken away - by hand, even, as if the idea of using magic to (de)construct such a necessity is beyond Graves - and then carefully scrutinised for imperfections. 

Graves hums, focused on his task.

“It was perfect; you’re wasting your time when we could be-” Credence grumbles, a low utterance deep in his chest; all irritated omega. “-I don’t know. Doing something useful.” If one were to look closely they’d see his body vibrating - a minute undulation as his physical form threatens to reconstruct itself into its other, smog-like state - a clear sign that, really, Graves is treading on thin ice and Credence has had enough.

He really, really wants the safety and comfort of the nest right now.

“If it was perfect one of Scamander’s Occamies wouldn’t have claimed it for its own,” Graves replies tersely, pointedly picking up a half-eaten grub from within a cocoon of sheets and raising a perfect eyebrow.

The look that Credence gives Graves could cut to the bone. “It’s a bug. I can’t possibly hurt myself with a few bugs. Besides, Newt said that Brenda-”

 _Brenda_ , Graves mouths, bemused.

Credence huffs. “-that _Brenda_ is feeling broody and she probably scented my pre-heat.”

“Probably. But you aren’t one of her nest-mates, Credence,” Graves replies, exasperated. “She shouldn’t be bringing you food in the first place.” _That’s my job_ , is what he doesn’t say, with a twist of the lips that is almost self-deprecating. “And you wouldn’t want me to pin you down during a peak and end up covered in squashed insects, trust me.”

 _You’re infuriating_ , Credence thinks morosely, and _really, I wouldn’t mind being an Occamies nest mate_. 

And then, because his body has absolutely perfect timing, Credence doubles over with a cramp, hissing in abject pain.

Somewhere in the apartment Brenda the Occamy shrieks, no doubt sensing the spike in pheromones. The empty tea-pot rattles in the study - where Brenda had curled up, ill-tempered - before toppling off of the desk. Within moments the Occamy, having doubled in size thanks to its new-found freedom, wraps its lissome body around Credence’s shoulders, cooing tenderly.

Concerned, Graves rises to his feet, and with a deft and learned hand rubs Credence’s lower abdomen in _just the right place_. Credence whimpers, and Brenda hisses at Graves, her displeasure and dislike all too apparent. “You’re early.” Too early. And with the nest in pieces behind him… “C’mere, sweetheart.”

The thing about Graves’ hugs, Credence muses, is that they’re really the best thing in the entire world. Strong arms wrap around him - careful of the complaining Occamy winding herself around Credence’s shoulder, wings fluttering and beak clicking with agitation - nice and tight, making him think of warmth and safety and _Alpha_ ; and all without the inconvenience of one being present. 

“S’perfect,” he mutters, dazed.

Sighing, Graves lowers them onto a plush cushion, careful not to jostle his charges. “Perhaps I was a little… overzealous.” He admits, tilting his head back to allow Credence to nuzzle close, to inhale the sympathetic chemicals that Graves is exuding from his very pores. It calms them both, this little action; of Graves massaging the cramps in Credence’s taut belly, of ululating an omegan purr in his throat as they sit, riding out the very beginnings of the changes wrought upon Credence’s body.

Credence scoffs. “Hm, you think so?”

Soon, the rich scent of slick fills the air. Graves hardens, his body reacting, though he neither proffers himself or takes liberties; merely tucks Credence under his body and ushers him onto the blankets. Pinned down and covered, instincts prevail and Credence eases, beautifully soothed.

“Better?” Graves asks, nosing along the jut of Credence’s jaw.

“You’ll have the nest ready for my next peak won’t you?” Credence croons; a lovely susurration of contentment, eyes heavy-lidded and so very tempting - and all too aware of it. “Kiss me,” he says also, and Graves does, with tongue and teeth and passionate zeal.

It’s perfect.

Particularly when an incensed, and slightly squashed, Brenda clacks her beak and nips Graves hard enough to bleed.

**Author's Note:**

> Wherein Credence is grumpy and Graves is a pain in the arse. Oh, and there's an Occamy called Brenda.
> 
> I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this series. Have some more cuddles!


End file.
